Broken Boundaries
by estrafalaria103
Summary: Jack didn't tell Kate that he'd accidently crossed the line. He didn't think it would matter. But the Others were watching, and they saw. Now the rest of the survivors must pay the price. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

Ana-Lucia was very far from happy. Hatch duty had never been her first choice to begin with, and even less when it was her, Henry Gale, and John Locke. The situation was tense, and painfully boring, besides. About the only thing that she was doing was looking at the clock, just waiting for the next person on duty to come and take a shift. She knew she wouldn't be able to leave then. . .she couldn't let Jack down. . .but at least she'd have some company.

If she'd known the next on-duty soul was Sawyer, she might not have looked at the clock so anxiously.

"Hey, Ana-lulu," he said in a cheerful tone, popping his head around the corner. "You're looking pale. The doc has it all work and no play for you, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. Had she really thought that he was good-looking, when she'd first met him? And nice, and a little heroic? Well, everybody makes mistakes, she supposed.

"Question for you," Sawyer said, sitting himself in a chair and throwing his muddy boots up onto the desk. "Jackass and Freckles took off into the jungle a bit ago. Any idea where they were headed?"

Ana nodded her head, and returned to her intense contemplation of the hatch library. "Yeah. Doesn't mean I'm going to tell you, though," she said. Sawyer laughed.

"Kind of funny, don't you think?" he said. Ana refused to rise to the bait and ask him what he was talking about. The man loved to hear himself talk, though, and continued on even without any bait. "He trusts you enough to push a damn button, but not enough to go with him on a madcap mission for a rendezvous with the Others."

"Jack trusts me," Ana said. And that was it. A final tone. She wasn't going to give him the pleasure of any more explanation than that. He, quite frankly, didn't deserve it. So, instead of continuing that line, she grabbed a box of Dharma brand frosted flakes off the table and began walking toward the back of the hatch. "Henry Gale needs his breakfast," she said shortly. A knock came from above.

"And somebody needs to be let in," Sawyer grinned. Ana looked away from the dimples. Damn dimples. Nobody should be allowed to have them. At least, nobody already as good-looking as Sawyer. Who wasn't good-looking. Not really. Frosted Flakes, right.

She opened the door, and Gale looked up at her. But his gaze was different, somehow. There was a menace that hadn't been there before.

"What the hell?" she heard Sawyer yell, and then shouts, and broken glass, and the sound of a scuffle.

"Sawyer?" Ana asked, turning around. "What's—?" But her words were cutten off by calloused hands wrapped around her neck.

"Looks like Jack walked over the line," Gale whispered in her ear. "We warned him not to do that. Now everybody else pays the price."

Charlie and Eko were building the church when they came. Five of them, guns held at the ready, angry expressions on blank faces. Eko grabbed his stick, and held it before him.

"Go, Charlie," he said.

"What d'ya mean?" Charlie protested, grabbing a branch for himself. "I'm not going to just leave you here!"

"Somebody needs to warn the camp," Eko insisted, still holding that staff carefully in front of him. "I will hold them off. Go tell everyone."

Charlie only hesitated for an instance, when the thought of Claire flashed through his head. He dropped the stick and went running through the jungle.

He almost fell when he reached the beach. The sand went flying under his churning feet, and his arms pinwheeled in an effort to keep his balance. Sweat poured down his face, rivulets stinging his eyes and stealing the water that his mouth sorely lacked.

"Dude, what's wrong?"

Hurley was the first one to see him. Charlie almost ran into him, grabbed the larger man's arm to keep his balance, and panted with a dry tongue covered with cotton,

"The Others. They're back."

"Dude. . ." Hurley shook his head.

"Charlie, what's wrong, what's happened?" Libby asked. Charlie couldn't say anything. His mouth wasn't working, his tongue wasn't moving. In shame, he bowed his head.

"The Others are back," Hurley dumbly answered. Libby paled.

"We have to tell everyone!" she gasped, and went running down the beach.

"Oh yeah. . ." Hurley said, still in a daze. Gently, he lowered Charlie to the ground, and then headed in the opposite direction as Libby, waving his arms and yelling. People slowly came out of their shelters, staring at each other in confusion. They had no leader around to tell them what to do, how to form up.

Charlie struggled to his feet. He had to find Claire, he had to. . .but then, there, down the shore, was Libby talking to the blonde woman. So he didn't need to tell Claire. He wanted to, but he knew that there was someone who that everybody else needed more.

Sayid was sitting far down the beach, away from everybody else. He was slowly attacking a mango with a stick. Charlie skidded to his knees.

"Sayid. . ." he breathed out. He couldn't seem to breathe in. Red lights danced in front of his eyes. "The Others. . ." he panted.

That was enough for the Iraqi, who leapt to his feet. He ran off, leaving an exhausted Charlie lying in the sand. The British man struggled to his knees, swayed onto his feet, and then lost his grip on reality and fell to the ground.

Stupid ponce, he thought to himself angrily. Got to get in better shape. Got to get back to help. . .but the sun was too hot, and he was too dehydrated. His second attempt to stand left him with an impending blackness in his vision.

Sawyer strolled nonchalantly to the hatch door, whistling a little under his breath. He always enjoyed his interactions with little Miss Hotlips. She was easier to provoke than Kate, and that was really saying something. He didn't know exactly what buttons to push just yet, but it seemed like anything he said set the woman off. Which made life interesting enough for him to get by.

"Hold your horses," he said as he neared the hatch. But when he opened the door, a trio of men he'd never seen before in his life looked back at him.

"What the hell?" he asked, but then the one in the middle raised a gun. Sawyer didn't take the time to think, he just dove straight at the man, desperate to take him down before the gun could be fired.

He hit the man low in the stomach, toppling him to the ground. The gun skittered away, to the edge of the pit Boone and Locke had dug so many months ago. The other two men grabbed Sawyer's arms, and pulled him back. He kicked out desperately, trying to slide out of their arms.

"Hello, James," the man he had tackled said pleasantly, rising to his feet and brushing almost absent-mindedly at a trickle of blood running from his mouth. "Did you miss us?"

Sawyer tensed for a moment, and stopped struggling. The man walked closer, and the two men holding him relaxed a little. Not enough yet. . .Sawyer had been in enough barfights to recognize his own strength. The man was almost nose to nose with him now.

"I guess your friend Jack did, because he came to visit us," the man said. "Took just one step too far, though, your good doctor did. So now you'll all get to pay."

"I don't think so, asshole," Sawyer said. He dropped to his knees, surprising his assailants and falling out of their reach. They leaned down to grab him, but he scuttled backwards. It wasn't graceful, but hell, it worked.

He dove toward the gun, teetering at the edge of the pit. A desperate reach out, and he grabbed it with one hand, flipping over on his back with a fluid motion and pointing it toward the middle man. The other two, by this time, had their guns out as well.

"Well, here's the conundrum, James," the man said, a smile still plastered across his face. "You can shoot one of us, but in that time we shoot you. What do you think of those odds? Two guns against one."

Sawyer didn't bother to answer. He'd learned his lessons with guns, twice now. Shoot first, think later. He squeezed the trigger.

Ana-Lucia couldn't breathe. Grey was growing in the boundaries of her sight. Her legs kicked less and less frantically. Henry Gale put his face up right in hers, his putrid breath making her cringe away.

"Ready to die, princess?" he hissed. She was amazed to think that this horrible, hulkling monster was the same timid man who had occupied the closet just days ago. She refused to let that weakling destroy her. With the last of her strength, she headbutted him, just enough surprise and pain that he dropped her to the ground and staggered back again. Ana drew in a quick, deep breath, almost crying out at the pain in her throat.

Trained and honed instinct took over, though, and she refused to lose herself in the pain. Instead, she jumped on the man, and began punching his face. Just as she had landed a particularly good one on his nose, three gun shots in quick succession rang out overhead. _Sawyer_, she thought, and closed her eyes for a moment. Just one second of grief for the man, that was all that she could allow herself.

But one second proved too much, as Gale pushed her off and rose up. He kicked her in the stomach, hard, and she curled around her sensitive belly. He kicked her a second time, in the head now, and she cried out in pain. Dropping to one knee, Gale grabbed her hair in his hand, and yanked her head up to meet his eyes.

"Just one question for you, Ms. Cortez," he said, and his eyes were black slits now. "Why didn't you follow your boyfriend into the jungle? Didn't he trust you?"

She reached up a trembling hand, and gouged her thumb into his left eye. She felt a sickening squish, and when she took her thumb out, it was covered in blood. Gale screamed, and covered his face with a hand.

"You bitch!" he yelled. "You heinous, whorish bitch! No more fooling around!"

"You're right," Ana said. She grabbed one of Jack's scalpels that lay near the door, out of Gale's reach when he'd been tied up. She crawled forward, and stuck it into Gale's body. He dropped to his knees, one hand still covering his mutilated eye, the other grasping blindly for the small knife. Slowly and painfully, Ana scooted right up to him, withdrew the knife, and plunged it into his neck. With a small cry, he fell to his side and remained silent.

Ana drew a deep breath, trying to draw the strength to get herself up the stairs. Sawyer was dead, she held no hope for that. And whoever had attacked him was probably there, and would undoubtedly kill her as well, especially armed with guns. But there was the chance that they were gone. In which case she had to get back to the beach, she had to warn the rest of the survivors. But, when she forced herself to her knees, her entire body screamed with pain. Keeling over to the left, she vomited.

"Maybe you should go ahead," Jack suggested, readjusting Mike's arm across his shoulders. "Get the hatch ready, prepare my equipment." Kate smiled a little at that.

"Good idea in theory, but I'm not a doctor," she responded. "I have no idea what you'd need. Maybe _you_ should go ahead."

"Good plan," Jack laughed. "You can carry Michael by yourself."

They walked in silence for several moments, both panting a little at the exertion of dragging Mike's dead weight. It was Jack who finally broke the tension.

"You were right," he said. "They weren't watching. They weren't waiting."

"Probably just as well," Kate said. "Who knows what they would have done if they'd seen you there, taunting them?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders. He had the distinct feeling that they wouldn't have done anything. Because, despite what he had just told the woman, he was still fairly certain that Mr. Friendly had been there, waiting for that instant when the doctor's feet slipped, when he toed across that invisible boundary.

Jack also didn't tell Kate that his foot had slipped, that he had crossed into the Other's land. He didn't think it would matter.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews! I always love getting those! Just a warning to everyone, though. . .be prepared for some character deaths. Because this is not the kind of story where everyone comes out alive._**

* * *

They came streaming out of the forest in one, uniform line. There weren't that many of them, Claire realized. Probably only a dozen. But each one clutched a rifle or shotgun in one hand. And they had no weapons.

"Damn Sawyer," Sayid said angrily, spitting on the ground. He didn't say anything else, but everyone knew what he was thinking. If only they had some guns. If only they had some way to protect themselves. . .

"All right," Sayid looked around, took stock of the situation. There was nobody around to help. He pointed to Jin, Hurley, Libby, Bernard, Locke, Scott.

"All right," he said. "You men with me. The rest of you. . .gather together, near the water. Take care of one another."

Claire clutched her baby even closer to her chest, and began slowly retreating. Aaron began to fuss, and she tried to be calm as she ran a hand down his back.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word," she sang, her voice trembling. She felt Sun's eyes on her, and turned to see the other woman placing a hand on her own belly. Tears pricked at the young Australian's eyes.

"This is not good," Sun said, over and over, repeating it like a mantra.

"We have to do something," Rose said. She, alone, sounded calm out of all the women gathered at the beach. "We can't just let the men up there. . ."

Claire thought about it. They needed guns. But Sawyer had hidden them, and no one knew where they were.

Short, static memories flashed through her head. Ethan, the doctors, an injection, the plane's explosion, Charlie and a jar of peanut butter, Aaron's birth, Rousseau

"That's it," Claire exclaimed. She walked over to Sun, and gently handed Aaron over. "Sun, I need you to take care of my baby," she said.

"No," Sun whispered the words shaking her head.

"Yes," Claire nodded, getting a little choked up. She didn't want to leave her baby, not now, not when there was so much danger, but she had to do something to help, she couldn't just leave things as they were.

"And just where do you think you're going, hon?" Rose asked. Claire marveled at the woman's ability to remain so matronly and calm, even in the midst of the hell they were quickly finding themselves in.

Claire smiled, tremulous, a single tear escaping and running down her cheek. She ran a finger over Aaron's downy head. One last time, she told herself. Just in case. One last time.

"To get help," she said. There was a crash from the frontier of jungle and beach. Turning, she saw the men and Libby with knives, chairs, pieces of metal, crashing full force into the Others. For some reason no guns rang off. But they were engaged.

Claire took off running.

* * *

Sawyer kept a firm grip on the gun, even as he fell to the ground. The man in the middle fell as well, he noticed. Thank goodness for small favors. But the other two were still standing, smoke issuing from the barrels of his gun.

Sawyer closed his eyes a moment, and closed out everything. He closed out the pain, the smell of gun and blood, the sweat, the pain, the pain. He focused on the breathing of the other two men. He focused on the crashing sounds he could hear within the hatch. He focused on Kate's face, lost somewhere in the jungle with Jacko.

"He dead?" one of the men asked.

"Only one way to find out," the other said. A moment later, Sawyer felt a toe digging into the soft side of his belly. As quickly as he could, he lifted the gun and shot. A groan, and a third body hit the ground.

He turned the gun, sighting along it to find the surprised gaze of the third man. But it was too late, he realized. He couldn't aim and fire quickly enough, the other man's finger was descending on the trigger, and he tried to say good-bye to her

But there was no need, for the man's eyes abruptly and inexplicably rolled up in his head, and he pitched sideways. Four down, Sawyer thought. How many more to go?

"What happened?" Ana asked, leaning heavily against the door to the hatch. She looked horrible, Sawyer thought. Bruises darkened her pale face, and straggled hair caught in her clothing, her mouth, the metal of the hatch. She was hunched over one side, as though it hurt her, and clutched one hand tightly against her chest.

"What happened to you, sugarpie?" Sawyer rasped. "You look like death warmed over."

"Yeah, well, you should see yourself," she managed with a smile. She hobbled over to him, reached a hand, and somehow, miraculously, they managed to both stand.

"Did they get you?" she asked him. Sawyer nodded, remembering now the rush of pain.

"Twice," he said. "Three times if you count the raft. Them bastards going to pay."

"Well," Ana said wryly, glancing at the three bodies on the ground. "Looks like three of them already have. Here, let's get you in, slap on some of those bandages Jack always keeps around."

But Sawyer shook his head, obstinately. "No," he said. "We gotta get the guns."

"Wha—?" Ana began to ask, but then she understood. "You think there are more of them?" she asked. Sawyer didn't answer. He grabbed one of Locke's abandoned crutches. It hadn't been used since yesterday, and he was pretty sure Mr. Clean wouldn't miss it anyway. Planting it firmly on the ground, he attempted to walk forward. It made it possible, despite the searing pain in his leg. _Bastards_, he thought angrily, once again. The leg and the shoulder, again. Damned shoulder.

"Wait," Ana abruptly stopped his progress. She leaned to the ground, picked up the three guns, and handed one to Sawyer. He glanced at it a moment. It was still hot. Shrugging his uninjured shoulder, he dropped it into the waistband of his pants.

"What you sayin, hot lips?" he asked, a smile pulling at his lips. She didn't smile in return.

"I'm saying I'm coming with," she said firmly. Sawyer didn't complain. That was nice, she thought. Jack would have. And then she had to wonder where Jack was, if he was even alive. He, after all, was the one who had wanted to challenge the Others.

Well, she thought, looking at the hobbling Sawyer and considering her own injuries. He'd gotten his wish.

* * *

Mr. Eko lay on the ground, staring at the irrefutable proof of his failure. The church lay in shambles, branches strewn across the beach. Footprints had trod through every corner of his santuary.

He moved his head to the right, and found himself peering into the face of a young woman.

"They destroyed my church," he said.

"I know," she responded. He turned to look at the sky again, at the white clouds gently moving through blue seas. The wonder of God, he thought, that the sky could be so tranquil when the earth was at war.

"It hurts," he told her. He himself wasn't certain whether he was talking about his own pains, or the destruction of his dream.

"I know," she said again. Somehow Mr. Eko had the sense that she knew exactly what he was referring to, though he himself might not.

"The Lord is my Shepherd," Eko began to say. He needed his faith to get him through this. He needed it to give him strength, so that he could return to the beach and help his friends.

"I shall not want. He leads me through green pastures," the girl began to chant with him, her brown eyes focused, dark brows knit together. When she concentrated like that, she reminded Mr. Eko of someone.

"Come," she said finally, when Mr. Eko had completed the psalm. He felt oddly drained, but peaceful. The pain in his stomach ebbed away. It was still bad, he knew that. He would still die, he knew that as well. But he would have the strength to finish what needed to be done. The girl reached out a hand, and he took it. He hadn't thought her slight frame would have the strength to pull him to his feet, but she did. Then, nonchalantly and as though it didn't cost her anything, she slung one of his massive arms over her slight shoulders, and began assisting him toward the beach.

"What is your name?" he asked her.

"Alex," she replied. "Alex Rousseau."

* * *

"What's that noise?" Kate asked curiously, twisting her head a little to hear better. Jack stopped as well, listening to the slight popping noise in the distance.

"I don't know," he said. "But you know what it sounds like?"

"Gunfire," Kate said decisively. They stared at each, fear and curiosity writ large across their features.

"Come on," Jack said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. "We'd better hurry back."

A thousand questions whirled through his brain. What if they had seen him cross that line? What if, God forbid, they were attacking the beach? It would all be his fault.

They heard a crashing in the jungle to their left. They froze.

"What is it?" Kate whispered, her green eyes wide with fright. Michael twitched a bit beside them, and then fell still. "Jack. . .Jack. . ."

"I don't know," he said. "It's coming from the hatch."

He slowly lowered Jack to the ground, and reached into his pants to grab the gun. Kate crouched on the ground beside Michael, her hands scrabbling blindly over the forest floor in search of anything she could use as a weapon. A stick, a rock, anything.

"When I say the word, I want you to run, Kate," Jack said. She shook her head.

"No, Jack, I'm not going to leave you." He ignored her.

"When I say the word."

He took the safety off the gun, and held it straight in front of him.

The foliage parted.

His gun fired.

* * *

"We could rest," Ana-Lucia suggested. Sawyer grunted in front of her. She sighed. Stupid men, never willing to admit they were hurt. She was getting through her own pain all right. A bottle of tequila and a box of painkillers would do that. But she knew that Sawyer was in worse shape, that every step he took was slowly killing him.

His shirt was drenched in blood, and his pants were slowly darkening as well. She knew that it was pure stubbornness that kept him moving now. He grunted again, and shook his head, drops of sweat and blood flying from his face.

"We're almost there, now, cupcake," he said, and turned to smile back at her. She was thankful for his attempt at calming her, but it did more damage than good. He lost his balance turning, the stick dug a little too far into the ground, and his right leg came down a little harder than he'd meant. It crumpled, and he fell to the ground.

"Damn it!" he shouted, lifting himself just enough to spit out dirt. "Damn!"

Ana was on one knee beside him in an instant. "You need to rest," she insisted. He shook his head.

"You hear that?" he asked. She remained silent for a moment, trying to hear whatever he was pointing out. "That's gunshots, chica. They're at the beach. Which means everyone's gonna die if we don't get those guns. Capice?"

She nodded her head, and ducked under his arm, helping him to his feet. "All right then, no more stopping," Ana said. Sawyer nodded, let go of her, and continued on his lurching way.

Sawyer was in the lead when they arrived at the clearing. He was the one in front, pushing aside the underbrush. But he was in too much pain to be vigiliant. It was Ana who heard the voices ahead of them, and then the small, distinct click of a gun.

"Sawyer, stop—" she tried to warn him. But she was too late.

The sound of a gunshot broke the silence of the jungle.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Almost there, now. The goal is to get this fic finished by Wednesday. Wish me luck, I'm almost there! Reviews are,as ever, appreciated. _**

**_Sawyerslover: You disturb me a little. Sawyer's already been shot twice! You wanted another?_**

**_ReginaTrudeau: Sorry about the lack of romance. There will be hints of it here and there. I wanted to keep this fic more true to the show,though, so there's no overt cheesiness. Sorry._**

* * *

It was getting increasingly difficult to see. Between the encroaching darkness and the tears in her eyes, the landscape was a blurry mass of dark shapes.

"Danielle!" Claire screamed. The sound was quickly swallowed up by the trees and foliage. Claire bit back a sob. She couldn't give up now, she couldn't go back. The others needed her. _Aaron_ needed her. "Danielle!" she screamed again.

But there was no answer. Of course not, Claire thought bitterly. The woman only turned up at awkward times. And, since right now they needed her, she was nowhere to be found.

Claire kicked at the ground angrily, and finally allowed the threatening tears to fall. They were all going to die. Sun, and Charlie, and her baby, and all because of the stupid Island and the stupid guns.

She turned around in defeat. At least she could die with them. The thought of remaining alive, alone, on the island was a thousand times worse than the fear of death. But as she headed back toward the beach, a small figure in the grass caught her attention. She walked a little closer, kneeling down to sit what it was.

"A doll. . ." she said wonderingly, reaching out her hands to touch it. It must be from the crash, of course. Such a poignant reminder. . .

She grabbed the doll in her right hand, and the next thing she knew, she was caught in a net, swinging high above the ground. She uttered one short shriek, and then fell silent.

"_Bon jour_," came a voice from below her. "What have I caught today?"

Rousseau, Claire thought. She had never been so happy to hear the bedraggled woman before.

"Rousseau!" she yelled. "Danielle! It's me! It's Claire!"

A moment later she hit the ground with a heavy oomph, all the air flying out of her. As she gasped for breath, the Frenchwoman leaned over her.

"Claire?" she asked in confusion. The Australian only managed to nod her head for a moment. When she finally caught her breath, she said

"The Others. They're attacking."

Rousseau's face instantly hardened. "Which way?" she asked. Claire pointed a shuddering finger back towards the beach. Without another word, Rousseau had taken off.

"Wait. . ." Claire said weakly. "I needed to know if you had more guns."

But it was too late. Claire struggled to her feet, and began to breathlessly follow in the tracks of Danielle. At least they had one gun, now, she thought. And Jack and Kate would be back any moment. It would have to be enough.

Her mind repeated that it might be enough, 45 survivors and two guns against only a dozen Others. Her mind kept repeating it, but her heart failed to believe.

* * *

"Damn it," Sayid gasped, falling to the ground and clutching at his shoulder. Apparently the Others had decided they'd had enough with playing nice. "Fall back!" he yelled to the rest of the survivors. "Now! Fall back!"

"What does that mean?" Hurley asked. He was already ducked down behind a clutter of salvage from the plane. Sayid rolled his eyes. The large man had barely helped at all in the fight.

"It means run away!" Libby shrieked. She grabbed Hurley's arm, and began dragging him down the beach.

Sayid sighed, and released his shoulder. His hand was red with his own blood. It was useless, he knew. What did they have to retreat to? The waves and the beach? All that he knew was that the Others had refused to leave the shelter of the forest. There was something about the beach they didn't like: the water maybe, or the sand, or the open air. If they could get far enough away, find shelter from the bullets, maybe they could survive.

But what kind of a survival would that be? Always hiding. . .they would starve, eventually.

Jin yelled something in Korean, and grabbed Bernard. The elderly man resisted, waving a piece of metal in his arms.

"You want a piece of this?" he yelled. "Come and get it! Come on!"

His only response was the sound of gunfire, and a red blossom on the front of his shirt. He stared down at it in surprise. Jin yelled again, as the weight of the man fell on him. He went down for a moment, on a knee, and turned to look at Sayid.

"Take him out!" the Iraqi yelled. "To the water! The water!"

Jin nodded his head, but Sayid didn't know if he'd truly understood or not. Either way, he looped his arms under Bernard's shoulder, and began dragging the older man away. Bernard lifted one hand, and delicately touched the wound in his chest.

"You come, too!" Locke yelled from further down the line. He was standing over Scott's dead body, two blood-stained knives in each fist. He'd been hit as well, Sayid realized. At least twice, in each leg. How was the man still standing?

"In a moment," Sayid replied. "Go. Protect the women."

Locke looked as though he were going to say something else, but instead he just reached down, picked up a knife from Scott's hand, and began limping back to the beach. Simply, confidently, with his back turned to the jungle. Another shot was not fired.

Sayid drew a deep breath in through the nostrils, and forced himself to stand. They still stood in a line in front of him, but now he found himself staring at the barrels of nine guns. Just nine, he thought, smiling grimly. They had taken out three. Not bad for desperadoes without weapons.

"What do you want?" he yelled at them. One of the men walked forward.

"We told your leader, the doctor, what we wanted." He snarled. "We wanted our side of the island. He crossed it."

"What does that have to do with us?" Sayid asked. The man smiled.

"He left you," the man replied. "Now you pay the price."

Sayid nodded his head. This he understood. One man against a firing squad. He had been on the other side, he knew the situation for what it was. An execution. Behind him, he heard a woman scream out his name. He closed his eyes, and lifted his head toward the sky.

Shannon, he thought. I'll be with you soon. But instead of the picture of the blonde woman, a vision of Nadia, dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin, flashing through his mind.

Nine guns fired, and the man fell.

* * *

"Sawyer!" Kate screamed, and ran forward to where the man had fallen. Michael remained on the ground behind her, a slight moan echoing from his lips. Jack let the gun fall to the ground, dropping out of limp fingers and bouncing slightly on the damp jungle floor. He hadn't—he couldn't have

"Not so hard to do, is it?" Ana asked bitterly. She dropped to one knee beside the fallen man, touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Sawyer?"

"I'm _fine_," the man gritted out. He pushed himself up to a kneeling position with his good shoulder, and dropped his head backwards, dirty hair falling out of his eyes. He found himself face to face with Kate. She danced fingers over his face, disbelieving that he was still alive. "Why, hello, Freckles. Fancy meeting you out here."

"Is he all right?" Jack asked, swallowing. He'd have to act soon, he knew. He was a doctor, and it was clear that Ana and Sawyer had been through some kind of trauma. He began to count. One. . .two. . .three. . .

"Lucky thing the doc is such a sucky shot," Sawyer grinned. He pushed on his stick, raising himself, dangerously swaying, to a standing position.

"Yeah," Ana agreed. "Too bad the Others aren't."

Jack's stomach dropped.

"You're hurt," Kate exclaimed, her fingers held over the wound in his shoulder. "He did hit you." She turned her accusing gaze toward Jack, but his eyes were far off, focused on some vision nobody else knew or understood.

"Nah," Sawyer shook his head. "These are old news."

Ana didn't like the way Jack was looking. She didn't like the way Kate was standing so close to Sawyer. She didn't like the way that she was standing back in the jungle, apart from the group. Like always. She cleared her throat.

"Sawyer," she barked. "We still have work to do."

Sawyer nodded his shoulder. Gently pushing Kate aside, he took a step forward.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kate protested. "Sawyer, you've been shot. You can't just—"

"That's just it, Freckles," Sawyer said. "I been shot. Which means other folks can get shot, too. Which means we need the guns."

"The Others are attacking?" Jack asked, breaking out of his trance. Sawyer rolled his eyes.

"Glad you got the newsflash," he shot. "Now if you'll excuse us. . ."

He and Ana pushed forward.

"I'm coming with you," Kate suddenly announced. Ana rolled her eyes. Jack began to protest, but she cut him off.

"You have the gun," she reminded him. "You might actually be able to help back there. I won't be any good."

"What about Michael?" Jack asked. Kate's eyes flickered to the man, and then back to Jack.

"You're a big boy," she said, and then turned and followed Sawyer and Ana into the underbrush. Jack stared at her retreating back, before dropping to the ground beside Michael and looping one of the man's arms over his shoulder.

"This is all my fault, Mike," he said. "I've got to do something to fix it."

All he received for a response was another slight moan.

* * *

Charlie woke up to sand being kicked in his face. Sputtering, he opened his eyes and sat up. "What the—"

"The Others," Rousseau's face suddenly appeared before the young man. He uttered a short shriek, and tried to scramble away. "Where are they?" she insisted, grabbing his collar and pulling him toward her. "Where are the Others?"

His mind was blank for a moment. Then it all came flooding back to him. The five men coming out of the jungle/Mr. Eko yelling at him to go/Hurley, Sayid, and his collapse in the sand.

"They're over there!" he said, jumping to his feet and pointing. "Hold on a moment, let me find my shoes, I'll go with you. . ."

But she was already off and running. And Charlie had a moment of insanity when he wondered why, exactly, he had thought shoes were so very important. . .

"Charlie!"

He stopped pulling on his left shoe, and turned toward the voice. Claire was running toward him out of the jungle, her eyes red-rimmed, her face white, the tracks of tears clear down her dirty face.

"Claire!" he yelled, running to her. "Are you alright?" He hugged her close, glad to see she was alive. But she struggled in his arms, pushed herself free, and he knew that nothing had changed.

"Did Danielle come through here?"

Charlie nodded his head mutely.

"We have to catch up," Claire said desperately, turning and hurrying down the beach. "My baby's back there."

Charlie nodded his head, and began jogging beside her.

But when they arrived at the beach, it was almost completely empty. Confused footprints in the sand suggested flight, but where to? Scott and Sayid were lying on the beach, and Charlie started toward them, but Claire grabbed his arm, shaking her head.

"That's where _they_ were," she said.

"Claire! Charlie!"

Sun's voice rang out. Charlie winced, wondering why she was calling attention to herself. But where was she, anyway? The voice sounded like it was coming from behind him, but there was nothing there but sea and sky. His heart sank a little, as he wondered if he was having hallucinations again. Still, it didn't hurt to check, and he turned around.

There, several meters out into the water, likely standing on a sandbar, were the rest of the survivors. Sun held a crying Aaron close to her chest. Next to her, Locke waved enthusiastically. He was the only man on the bar.

"Aaron!" Claire smiled, relaxing a little, and began heading out to everyone. Charlie glanced back, worriedly, toward the jungle, but then followed her out.

"We're safe here," Sun said, handing the baby back to it's mother. Claire began to cry again, resting her head on that of the baby. Charlie nodded his head, and looked back toward the land.

Sure, they were safe for now, but not forever, he thought. And how long could they survive on a bloody sandbar, anyway?

And where, he wondered, was everyone else?


	4. Chapter 4

**_Wow, this chapter practically wrote itself. Amazing! The first half is probably my favorite part of the whole story. Kind of poignant._**

**_Also, I don't know where all of this Ana-love came from. Usually I hate her, but for some reason while writing this story I just began to really sympathize with her. But, I'm still a Skater at heart, so there you go. Even when Kate is being kind of a sissy like she is here._**

**_Anyway, read and enjoy! Just one chapter left after this, a kind of epilogue to tie everyone back together. But this is the end of the main action._**

Desmond saw her running through the jungle, and instantly knew that something was wrong. After all, Danielle Rousseau was not the running type. She stalked, quiet and constant as a cat. He was the one who liked to run.

So he did just that, sprinting up the path until he was several meters ahead of her. He leaned against a tree and waited.

"Let me by," Rousseau said when she saw him against that tree. He looked at her with his sad puppy dog eyes.

"Danielle, what's wrong?"

She flinched away. "Let me by."

"Danielle. . ." he allowed his hands to move of their own accord, up and toward her face, gently carressing her weatherbeaten skin. She didn't move, just stared at him straight in the eye.

"Let me by."

He dropped his hands. He should have known, after what happened with Kelvin, that things couldn't go back to normal between him and the Frenchwoman. He regretted it, nonetheless. She had been his only friend on the island, the only thing keeping him from insanity, for the past two years.

"Tell me what's wrong, first."

"The Others have come," she said. "They're attacking the beach."

Desmond nodded. His mind flew back to the others. To the bald man, so full of his own destiny, and the beautiful brunette. And Jack, of course. Foolish Jack, who had been put on the Island to atone and achieve all that he had missed in his earlier life. But he'd completely missed the message.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing her by the arm. "Do you have an extra gun?"

Wordlessly she handed him a crossbow. A wry smile crossed his lips. "Well," he said. "It's not exactly what I had in mind, but it's better than nothing, eh?"

"We cannot just sit and chat," Rousseau said resolutely. "The Others are coming."

"Right, right, right," Desmond said, chuckling a little. He understood that the situation was dire, but he still couldn't help but laugh a little at the Frenchwoman's attitude. The funny thing was, he couldn't tell she was any more serious now than she was every time she saw that black smoke. "Let's go kick some Other ass."

* * *

"Dammit!" Sawyer yelled, following to the ground again. Kate was at his side in an instant. Ana just stared down, remembering her last trek through the jungle with the man. He'd fallen, just like this, and then he'd blacked out and nearly died. . .

"Are you going to help us or not?" Kate asked furiously. Ana shrugged it off. She glared down at them. At Sawyer, with whom she had connected in the hatch. But he wasn't thinking of her now, of course, he was all focused on his beautiful, precious Kate. And Jack, too. Ana stepped around their bodies on the ground.

"We don't have time to wait for him to keep falling," she said resolutely, continuing through the jungles. "We need the guns."

"He's been shot!" Kate protested incredulously. "It's not his fault!"

"She's right," Sawyer said. He stared down at the ground, hair obscuring his face. "Listen, Hotlips, you won't find them without me. But. . .Freckles. . .you can. . ." He lifted his face, and studied hers for a long moment, his eyes drinking in every little feature. "Kate," he said. "Remember our waterfall?"

She nodded at him, biting her lips furiously and blinking rapidly to keep her eyes from tearing up.

"They're back there. Behind the water. Take Sheera over there and get them."

"Sawyer. . ." she protested. His eyes narrowed, and a mask fell over his face. Ana watched. She had seen the desperation there for a moment, the longing and the aching need. She had the sinking suspicion that her own face might be showing the same expressions. Not that it mattered, she realized. Because nobody was there watching her. She turned her back, allowing the two to have their moment.

"Hey, She-man!" Sawyer suddenly hollered. Surprised, Ana turned to look at him. He winked in her direction, but his eyes were oddly expressionless. "Get your sweet behind over here."

She walked over, and knelt beside him, pushing Kate a little out of the way. With a grunt of effort, Sawyer rose to a sitting position, leaned forward, and kissed her.

Ana's eyes closed in surprise and pleasure. The kiss was light and teasing, not the furious fountain of passion she had always suspected. His tongue danced lightly into her mouth and out, just barely tasting.

She sighed when he drew back. His face was completely blank, but for just an instant he glanced at Kate and she understood.

"Thank you, Ana," he whispered. His eyes begged her to understand. And she did. Standing up, she tossed him a second gun.

"There. We'll be able to get more," she said hardly, and then turning to Kate, who was staring at the man with obvious surprise and hurt, said "come on, chica, we've got lives to save."

She strode into the jungle, hacking at the branches in her way. She could hear the rustle behind her of the other women.

"It's not that far," Kate said in a low voice. "Ana when—"

"I don't want to talk about it," Ana said. She had to keep her voice strong and her back straight.

"But you were just going to leave him there. . ." Kate almost whispered, clearly not wanting Ana to hear.

"Sometimes there are things more important," Ana said. She didn't say more important than what, thought, maybe because she didn't have the answer.

A few minutes later she ran out of branches to chop at. One step forward and she found herself in a beautiful clearing, with the rushing sound of water. On her right was a huge, beautiful waterfall.

"This the place?" she asked, shaking her head to push dark, overgrown bangs out of her eyes.

"Yeah," Kate said. She dropped her pack on the ground, and headed over to the waterfall. Ana followed close behind.

"There's only room for one person," Kate said, when she came to the stone wall over which the water flowed. "Stay here on the bank, and I'll throw the guns to you."

Ana hated staying behind, but she recognized the wisdom of the suggestion. She dropped her own pack, and fingered the gun tucked into her pants nervously. She glanced around, expecting one of the Others to come out any moment.

"Got it!" Kate yelled from somewhere behind the waterfall. _Good for you_, Ana thought sarcastically, still eying the jungle all around them. Kate's face appeared suddenly from behind the water, a briefcase caught in one hand, and several rifles in the other.

"Ready?" she asked. Ana nodded her head.

"Go ahead."

It was a slow and laborious process getting the guns out. Yet again, both women had to wonder how Sawyer had managed to spirit them away in the first place. Ana refused to think about him too long, though. How he was out in the jungle, injured, possibly even dead. . .no.

"Stop!" Ana finally yelled as Kate ducked behind the water again. "That's all we can carry. We'll take these back to the beach."

"Okay," Kate agreed, and carefully crawled back across the steep stone precipice. She grabbed her pack again, the briefcase, and two of the shotguns, while Ana shouldered the rest.

"Come on," Ana said, smiling at the other woman. She could tell that Kate was scared, and worried about Sawyer, and the other survivors. For an instant she felt like she could understand her as a woman, not just as the love interest of every damn man on the island. They weren't so different, really. She smiled a little at the other woman.

"Let's go kick some Other ass."

* * *

Hurley panted, and leaned against a tree. "Can we be done running yet?" he asked.

Jin stucked his face up close to the larger man, and shook his head, looking intense and muttering something in Korean.

"Whoa, dude, I don't speak Chinese," Hurley protested.

"Ozzers," Jin said urgently, pointing toward the shore. "Sun. Ozzers."

"Okay, okay," Hurley stood up again. "I get it."

"We can't all keep running," Locke said suddenly. Everybody turned to stare at him. He hadn't said a word since Sayid had been murdered. "Bernard can't, anyway, and I don't think our buddy Hurley can."

"I . . .can. . ." Hurley said, but he could hear the doubt in his own voice.

"Jin, Libby and I will do another run through the beach," Locke said. "Try to distract them again. But you two try to get back in the jungle. Hurley, you'll have to watch out for Bernard."

Hurley looked at the older man. He wasn't looking so good, he thought. Kind of a weird grey color. Then his eyes traveled down a little, to the man's chest.

"Dudes. . ." he said. "Dudes, I don't do so good with blood."

"Hurley, you have to do this," Libby said earnestly. She was crying. She'd been crying since the battle had begun. Hurley wanted nothing more than to take her tears away.

"Okay," he said. "Yeah. Yeah, I can take care of him."

"Ozzers," Jin said insistently.

"I know!" Locke yelled, losing his temper for just a moment. "Goddammit, I know. Hugo, be careful," he said. Hurley nodded his head.

"Yeah, you guys, too."

Locke nodded, and then in a minute he was off and running again, Jin at his heels. Libby turned to look one last time at Hurley, sympathy written large across her features, and then she was following him. Hurley hated the thought of her out there, basically just bait for the Others.

He looked back at Bernard, and then, sighing, stumbling over to him and sat down beside him. He opened a water bottle, and poured a little over the lips of the injured man.

"Dude, looks like it's just you and me."

* * *

Jack almost dropped Michael when he reached the hatch. Three bodies were lying outside of it, two shot, and one who looked like his head had been halfway-crushed. No wonder Sawyer and Ana had looked so banged up, if they'd been attacked by all these men.

He dragged Michael down the hatch, and heard the timer angrily counting down. He was surprised it was still going. But he didn't have time to go punch in keys and hit a button. It was looking like they would all find out what happened when it counted down to zero.

He hurried to the armory, hoping that maybe Sawyer had overlooked one gun when he'd been taking them out. But the armory, sure enough, was still empty of guns. Henry Gale lay on the floor, a scalpel sticking out of his throat. Jack ignored him, and ran toward the supply room.

He grabbed his medical bag and hurriedly shoved in all of the bandages and the medicine that he could, and then hurried off to the beach, praying that Ana, Kate and Sawyer had been able to find the guns.

The sun was at its height when he stepped out of the hatch. He stared at it for a moment in amazement. Could it really be so beautiful, when there was so much death and pain going on? It didn't seem to make sense.

"Brother."

He spun around, coming face to face with what he could have sworn was a figment of his imagination.

"Desmond?" he said, confused. Right behind the man was a familiar figure as well. Jack shook his head. Rousseau?

"The Others are attacking," Rousseau said. Desmond rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Care to join us on our Other-hunt?" Desmond asked.

"That's where I was headed myself," Jack said carefully, throwing his medicinal supplies over his shoulder. Desmond held up a crossbow, almost cheerfully.

"Well, we're not the best prepared, but hey, it's better than nothing, eh brother?"

"Sure," Jack said warily. He turned and began running down the path toward the beach. He could hear the heavy footfalls of Desmond and Rousseau close behind them. Where had they come from? He wondered. How had they even known?

It didn't matter. He couldn't hear anything from the beach. He was certain that he and Kate had heard gunshots while they were in the jungle. What did it mean that they had all ceased?

God, he prayed. God, if you exist, don't let them dead. Don't let this all be upon my head.

* * *

Sun cried silently, tears running down her face. Her lips moved, but no sounds came out.

Claire cried softly. Low, whimpering sounds came out of her mouth ever few seconds. Whenever she heard herself, she would duck her head and gently kiss her baby's head.

Rose didn't cry. She had seen her husband shot, and had seen Locke carry him off down the beach. Rose was too scared to cry. Last time, when he husband had been stranded on the opposite end of the island, she had felt that he was still all right, that they would one day be reunited. But this time, she didn't feel anything.

Charlie didn't cry, either. He just kept looking at Claire, and feeling an overwhelming rush of sadness. They couldn't go like this, knee-deep in water, staring at enemies they couldn't even see. He had to do something, anything to make up for his failure. He began to walk off the sandbar. Nobody stopped him, although Claire said his name, once, softly.

He walked up the beach, resolute, and stood in the center, shading his eyes a little and staring out at the jungle.

"Well?" he yelled. "Where are you? Come on out, you buggers, come on! What? You afraid of me!"

"I highly doubt that," Locke said, breathing heavily. Charlie nearly jumped out of his skin in fright. Where had the man come from. But there, just behind him, was Jin and Libby.

"Hey!" Charlie said, his voice sounding oddly cheerful in the stillness of the afternoon. "Where did you guys come from?"

"We _were_ running decoys," said Libby. She was the only one who had noticed the dark figures coming out of the jungle. "But I think we've waited a little too long this time."

Charlie turned around, fearfully, following her eyes. Coming out of the forest were six men, all armed, pointing their guns at the small group on the beach.

"Well, looks like this might be it," Locke said. He turned and smiled at everyone. "It's been a pleasure serving with you men."

But Jin was having no part of the martyrdom. He reached down, grabbed a pole from what was once Sawyer's tent, and ran head first toward the Others. Charlie and Libby followed by example, while Locke simply walked behind them, his arms held up toward the sky, smiling beautifically.

The Others, he figured, were of the Island. And if the Island had decided that it was his time to go, the best he could do was accept it peacefully.

"What are they doing?" Claire asked. She saw Jin grab a piece of tent, and run toward the jungle. Sun shrieked, and began running out of the water. Charlie and Libby picked up bits of plane remnants as well.

"Sun!" Claire screamed. She clutched Aaron to her chest. She couldn't take him with. She couldn't, she had to protect him!

A gunshot fired, and Claire shut her eyes. Then another, and another. Too many guns for six people. Terrified, she opened her eyes. Two of the Others were on the ground, along with Libby. Charlie was clutching his shoulder.

But why weren't the other four firing?

She squinted. It was hard to make out faces on the blindingly white beach. But the four remaining Others, she could see, had their hands up in expressions of surrender. There, behind two of them, were Kate and Ana, guns held at the men's heads. And on the other side, Danielle with her shotgun, and some man Claire had never seen with what looked like a crossbow.

And there was Jack, kicking up sand as he ran, and then skidding to the ground alongside Jin, his medicine bag open almost before he'd hit the ground.

Claire began to laugh, and to frantically kiss Aaron's small head. They were saved, after all. They weren't going to die.

They were saved.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack sat back tiredly, wiping at the sweat on his brow with one bloody hand.

He'd been too late. For far too many of the once-survivors, he'd been too late.

There was Steve (or was it Scott?). It didn't matter now, anyway, they were both gone.

There was Sayid, who had done so much to keep everyone alive. Who had held the Island together. What were they going to do on the Island without his technical abilities and his calm competence?

There was Bernard, who had been dragged back by Hurley just a little too late. Who had been spotted by a somber wife. Rose had come, closed his eyes, and then sank down beside him, holding her hand gently. When Hurley protested, saying that he had to get to Jack, Rose had told him it was over. Jack hadn't even seen the man until hours after he'd died.

There was Mr. Eko, who had been found out in the jungle, some mushed fruit and water bottles beside him. Jack was relieved to see that there were footprints around his body, the marks of somebody else's body. At least the religious man hadn't been alone when he'd died. His stick was clasped tightly in his hands, and his eyes stared unseeingly toward the sky.

There was Libby, who had come so close to the end unscathed. Who had fought so bravely with the men. Hurley had sat beside her all night long, as she'd cried out and screamed. He'd held her in his arms when she'd shook, and wiped at her face when she sweated. He kissed her when she asked him to, and cried when she told him not to. Jack had left them alone in the last minutes.

There was Sawyer, who was still lost somewhere in the jungle.

Then there were the others, too. There was Ana, with her thousand scrapes and bruises, and her lost eyes. There was Charlie, with a bullet through his shoulder and infection threatening. There was Locke, who had shut himself in the hatch and refused to come out. There was Michael, who still hadn't woken. There was Kate, who went into the jungle every day, and returned every night looking a little more haggard.

"Jack," Claire said one night, sitting with him as he tended to Charlie's shoulder. "It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is," he said blindly, peeling off bandages and cutting up new ones. "I crossed the lines."

"Well, whether it's your fault or not, nobody's blaming you," Charlie spoke up. "Bloody hell, if I'd been there I would have done. Michael did it."

Jack smiled a little at that, and tied the bandage up, handing the man several antibiotics.

"Take those"

"I know, I know, one every two hours," Charlie popped one in his mouth and swallowed it quickly. "I've got the drill down."

Claire laughed, and grabbed him by his good arm, pulling him to his feet and dragging him toward the beach.

"Thank you, Jack," she said. "I know that you're doing the best you can."

He shook his head, and began putting supplies back on their respective shelves. Sure. The best he could, which had ended up getting them all killed.

"Jack!" He heard Kate's voice screaming from just outside the cave, and hurried out to meet her. "Jack! I found him!"

He didn't need to ask who she'd found. He just grabbed his bags and ran into the jungle.

"Hey doc," Sawyer said weakly. "Long time no see."

The man had found himself a small cave, and crawled into it. It wasn't a bad place, Jack had to admit. There was fresh water running in a creek, and it was protected from the weather. He didn't say any of that, though. He just knelt beside the man, and ripped of his shirt.

Sawyer winced as dried blood came away with the cloth, and his shoulder began to bleed again. "Hell, doc," he said. "Didn't know you was into that kind of thing. I have to admit, I think I'd prefer Freckles ripping my clothes off."

Kate laughed, a relieved, sobbing sound, and Sawyer turned to look at her. The smile slowly disappeared from his face. Jack didn't know why Kate suddenly looked so sad, so disappointed. He yelled at her once, as she suddenly turned and ran from the scene, but then sighed and returned to examining Sawyer.

"What was that all about?" Jack asked. Sawyer shrugged his one good shoulder.

"I messed up," he said. "How'd everyone else make out? Did the guns get there in time?"

Jack nodded his head, and deftly bandaged up the shoulder before moving to the man's leg. He unzipped the man's pants, and began to slowly pull them off.

"Now we're just getting personal," Sawyer complained, but he was too weak to stop Jack. The wound in the leg was clean, Jack was glad to see. He bound that one again, and then, struggling, managed to do the other man's pants up again.

"Hey."

Both men looked up. Ana-Lucia was standing there in front of them, Kate just a little behind her. "How you doing, cowboy?"

"Peachy keen," Sawyer said, smiling and dimply for her. Jack sighed, and slung one of Sawyer's arms over his own, standing up.

"We've got to get him back to the hatch," he said simply. He looked at the two women standing in front of him, neither moving to help. "Well?" he asked.

"Go ahead," Kate said softly, her eyes downcast toward the ground. "I think he'd rather have you there than me."

"No," Ana said. "He wouldn't."

"But—"

Jack was dying to know what the women were talking about, or why Sawyer had suddenly gone so still, and his face seemed even whiter than it had a moment ago. Kate looked up, hopefully, staring at Sawyer's face.

"Aw, hell, Freckles," Sawyer said. "You know it's always been you."

Kate still seemed confused, but she was wearing a contented smile as she dipped under Sawyer's arm and helped support him back to the hatch.

In a way, it had all worked out, Desmond realized. It had taken some deaths, but at least he and Rousseau had been fully initiated into the island cult. Charlie and Claire had reconciled. Sayid had joined the women he loved. And it looked as though the Island love triangle/parallelogram had settled down.

"I'm sorry."

Desmond turned around to see Rousseau behind him. She had showered, probably for the first time in sixteen years. He thought she looked beautiful.

"I am, too," he said.

"You were right," Rousseau sighed, and wrapped her arms around her legs. "But I miss her."

"I know," he said, and put one arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close to his body. He kissed the top of her head, gently, hoping she wouldn't notice. "We'll find her someday."

She fell asleep like that. Desmond just continued to watch the sunset. He saw the lone figure get up, when it was full dark, and head back to the hatch.

"Hey," he said. "Be careful. The Others are still out there."

Ana-Lucia turned to look at him, her face a shifting kaleidocope of shadow and light. "I know." She said.

She continued on past the two, her heart breaking a little as she saw them so close. Just one more conversation, she though to herself. Just to close it. Just to make sure.

She crept into the hatch, tiptoeing around Locke. He had fallen asleep over a piece of paper with a curious drawing on it. A large question mark stood in the middle of the paper, circled multiple times.

There was Jack, lying on the couch with his arm flung over his eyes. She grabbed an afghan from a nearby chair, and laid it over his sleeping form. Poor Jack, she thought tenderly. He's almost as lost as I am.

And then into the back room, the one with the bunks. Kate was asleep on the top one, and Sawyer was lying on the bottom. She knelt beside his bunk.

"Hey," she said softly. He came awake immediately, shifting a little to look at her.

"Hey," he said back.

She held a finger up to his lips, stopping him before he could say anything else.

"Listen, for once," she said. "No smart aleck remarks. You know that she's all wrong for you, right? You know that I'm better for you."

He reached over with his good hand, and pulled her finger away from his mouth.

"I know," he says. "But hell, don't they always say love is blind?"

Ana nodded, tears in her eyes. "Yeah," she said, forcing a smile. "It explains a lot, don't it."

"Don't it ever," Sawyer said. She nodded her head, and prepared to leave. But he reached over, grasped the back of her head, and pulled her in tenderly. "Ana. . ."

"Don't," she said softly. But he did.

One slow, lingering kiss. She closed her eyes, willing the moment to go on forever. But of course it didn't.

"There," he said, releasing her, and falling back, exhausted, onto the bed. "That's one for the road."

"Two," Ana corrected him with a smile, resisting the urge to touch her lips with trembling fingers. "That's the second one, cowboy. Two for the road."

And she walked out of the room. She saw Jack sprawled on the couch, and walked over. She carefully kissed him as well, on the forehead, sealing the four of them. From Kate to Sawyer to me to you and back to Kate, she thought. It all came back to Kate.

Jack opened his eyes. She smiled at him.

"It's not your fault, Jack," she said.

"Thank you," he responded.

And Ana sat beside him and cried.

The funerals were held the next day.


End file.
